


soothe the burning in my skin

by voidpants



Series: dbh tumblr requests [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, dysmorphia, skin malfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 22:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20750147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidpants/pseuds/voidpants
Summary: Connor tries to activate his skin again.He watches as patches of synth fluid wobble frantically across his hands, unable to settle as error messages flood in, sensors reporting chassis damage at every available anchor point.He keeps trying for approximately fifty-seven more seconds before aborting the attempt, then he picks up the first thing he can reach off the coffee table and flings it as hard as he can at the wall.(or, "Connor hates what he looks like without his skin. Gavin helps.")





	soothe the burning in my skin

Connor tries to activate his skin again.

He watches as patches of synth fluid wobble frantically across his hands, unable to settle as error messages flood in, sensors reporting chassis damage at every available anchor point.

He keeps trying for approximately fifty-seven more seconds before aborting the attempt, then he picks up the first thing he can reach off the coffee table and flings it as hard as he can at the wall.

The green glass tealight holder shatters on impact, and it does nothing to ease the angry frustration boiling in him.

Three days before they can repair his sensor mesh, stop it from flagging chassis damage that doesn’t exist.

Three days of his skin not _working_, of looking like… like…

_Three._

_Fucking._

_Days._

He flings the matching tealight holder with a frustrated growl escaping his speakers, crunchy with static.

He hates this. He hates it _so much_.

He doesn’t feel right like this, he feels… Exposed. Vulnerable.

_Ugly_.

He feels _so _ugly, and it _hurts _in a way he doesn’t know how to deal with.

And Gavin is coming over in less than half an hour.

He laughs, almost hysterically, but the sound devolves into a pained crackle when he tries to drag his hand through his hair, instead being met with the soft _tap _of plastic on plastic.

He should have called and cancelled. Should have told Gavin he had a case, had to work overtime. Gavin would have bought it, would have grumbled about the “fucking feds” working him too hard, would have told Connor to take care and he’d see him next week.

He should have called and cancelled, but he _wants _to see Gavin. He wants…

He feels ugly and hurt, and he wants to be comforted. He wants Gavin to comfort him.

“Shit, shit, _shit_.” He buries his face in his hands. “I’m so fucking _stupid_.”

Because Gavin _won’t_, will he? 

After all, if _Connor _thinks he looks disgusting like this, what will Gavin think? If Connor can’t even stand to touch his own body like this, then why would Gavin _want _to?

“_Fuck_.” It comes out as a sob, and he realizes only now that he’s been crying. He’s such a mess. Just a stupid, _ugly _mess and-

And the doorbell is ringing.

_Gavin_.

The panic shocks him out of the crying jag, processing priority being given to his preconstruction software, dozens upon dozens of simulations running parallel behind his eyes, trying to find an approach to Gavin’s arrival that will yield optimal rewards.

But like most preconstructions where his own emotions are involved, the results all come back with question marks instead of probabilities, and he punches the couch in frustration.

“Hey, Connor? You in?” Gavin sounds impatient, and tired.

Fuck.

Fine.

Maybe if he just… doesn’t give Gavin time to talk, to ask questions, if he just kisses him and doesn’t stop kissing him, manages to distract him from the sleek white expanse of Connor’s… _everything_, maybe he can make it work out. Maybe he can get what he needs.

It’s the only plan he has.

“Just a second!” he yells, standing up from the couch. He glances around, and other than the glass debris in one corner of the living room, everything looks fine. Everything except the obvious, at least.

He wipes the tears off his face with the sleeve of his shirt on the way to the door. Flicks the lights off, as if it will help.

He takes a second, standing in front of the door, achingly self-aware, trying to remember how to smile.

Then he opens the door.

“The fuck were you doing, I’ve been wai-”

Connor doesn’t let Gavin finish. Just pulls him in by the collar of his stupid, paint stained academy hoodie, and kisses him the way he knows Gavin likes, aggressive and demanding and filthy.

And Gavin just kisses back, laughing into it as Connor slams the door closed and pushes him up against it, one of Gavin’s hands fisting in a handful of Connor’s shirt, the other sliding down to grope at his ass through his slacks.

His plan seems to be working, and it emboldens him to slide a thigh in between Gavin’s, nipping his bottom lip as Gavin moans.

“H-hey,” Gavin gasps as Connor tilts his head to the side to trail kisses up his neck. “You wanna slow down for a minute there, huh?”

Icy fear pools in Connor’s chest, and he stutters to a stop for a second before shaking it off, teeth scraping across Gavin’s jugular.

“I want _you_,” he murmurs, modulates his voice low and gravelly the way that usually makes Gavin shiver, fingers grasping at Gavin’s belt buckle, too clumsy with nerves to get it open.

“Yeah, not blaming you,” Gavin laughs, breathy, but his hands are letting go, coming down to cover Connor’s instead, stopping him. “But, uh, this doesn’t feel right?” he says, voice quieter, smile smaller.

Oh.

Of course not.

At least Gavin had been kind about it.

“I understand,” Connor says, trying for level, and barely suppressing the cringe when instead it comes out the wrong side of robotic. Steps away carefully, hands dropping out from under Gavin’s, thirium pump giving a sick shudder at the awful contrast of tanned skin against white plastic. “The… The techs said they’ll have,” he gestures vaguely at himself, “_this _fixed Monday. We can reschedule for then, if you like. You don’t… I wouldn’t expect you to stay.”

Something like anger sparks in Gavin’s eyes as his face pulls into a frown. “The fuck?”

You’d think the fact that the outcome was expected would make the reality of it less… _heartbreaking_, but those are emotions for you. They always fuck everything up.

“I know I’m not… attractive like this,” he explains, calmer than he feels, fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt. “It’s not what you signed up for. I don’t take offense.”

“That’s not even fuckin-” Gavin starts, voice raised, taking half a step forward, before cutting himself off, chest heaving with a deep breath. “I don’t have a problem with _this_,” he says, voice tight as he gestures at Connor. “I know what I fucking signed up for, okay? So you can get the _fuck _out with that _fucking _bullshit.”

And Connor feels the rage rising up his throat, because how _dare _Gavin _lie _to his _face_? “Then why would you make me stop, if not because you think I’m- because I’m _ugly_?” he spits, venomous and so, so angry.

“Because you've looked one second away from crying since the moment you opened the fucking door!” Gavin roars back, then flinches, steps back, hands coming up to cover his face as sucks in shuddery breaths. “Fuck, _Connor_,” he murmurs, and Connor is… _stunned _by the depth of emotion in Gavin’s rough, strained voice.

“You’re not fucking ugly, okay?” he says, eventually, hands dropping, eyes coming to meet Connor’s, and he looks… tired. Honest. “Skin or no skin, I think you look good,” he continues, gently, taking a careful step into Connor’s space again, hand reaching out for his, and it’s so easy to turn his palm into Gavin’s, letting their fingers twine. “But right now you look like you’re in the middle of a fucking nervous breakdown.”

Connor stares at him for a few moments before he nods, eyes falling to the floor.

“I just hate looking like this,” he admits, squeezing Gavin’s fingers. “I like my skin, I like how I look with it. Like this, I…” He closes his eyes as he feels the tears start rolling down his face. “I feel _wrong_. Disgusting and ugly and-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gavin cuts him off, moving fully into his space, arm coming up to wrap him in a hug. “Didn’t those fucks at Cyberlife ever teach you if you had nothing nice to say, don’t say anything?”

It startles a laugh out of Connor’s voice box, small and wobbly, buried in the leather of Gavin’s jacket.

“If you followed that guideline yourself, you’d never speak,” he murmurs, turning his face into Gavin’s neck, arm coming up to hug him back.

“Yeah, well, I’m an orphan, so no wonder I wasn’t raised right,” Gavin says, pressing a kiss against Connor’s LED. “And I say plenty nice things.”

Connor runs his thumb across Gavin’s knuckles.

“Can you say some now?”

Gavin hums thoughtfully against his temple.

“You are… _aggravatingly _pretty.”

“Even like this?”

“All the time.”

Connor pulls back, just enough to make eye contact, to drown in the open, raw affection in Gavin’s grey eyes.

“Then prove it,” he whispers, and imagines that this is what it feels like to be breathless.

“Oh, it’s gonna be like that, huh?” Gavin says, smiling, already leaning in.

“Oh, absolutely,” Connor says, before Gavin kisses any other words out of his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://voidpants.tumblr.com/) if u wanna come chat


End file.
